


suitcases of memories

by gilligankane



Series: you can tell everybody this is your song [35]
Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: 80's Music, F/F, Mixtape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-22
Updated: 2018-06-22
Packaged: 2019-05-27 00:30:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15012752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gilligankane/pseuds/gilligankane
Summary: Wynonna reaches over and flicks her in the ear. “You’ll be thirty soon, you know.”“You’ll be thirty first,” Nicole points out.“Whatever,” Wynonna says, rolling her eyes. “You’re just jealous because I’m older than you are.”“So jealous,” Nicole says dryly. “So jealous you’re going to get shoved into a nursing home before I do.”





	suitcases of memories

**Author's Note:**

> September 12, 2000 - it's Wynonna's 30th birthday and she has one day to do something she's always wanted to do, but she won't do it without Nicole.

**“Time After Time” Cyndi Lauper, 1983  
** _ If you're lost you can look, and you will find me time after time. If you fall I will catch you, I'll be waiting time after time. _

“It’s my birthday!”

Nicole groans into her cup of coffee, her head dropping to the kitchen table top. “It’s five in the morning.”

“The morning  _ of my birthday _ ,” Wynonna clarifies. She opens a cabinet, pulling down a mug and noisily making herself a cup of coffee.

“You know, that key is for emergencies only,” Nicole mutters.

“The emergency is that it’s my birthday,” Wynonna says. She pulls out the chair next to Nicole, grinning as the legs scrape hard against the floor. She sits down heavily, her mug making a  _ thud _ on the table.

Nicole winces, wiping at her eyes. “Being born does not constitute an emergency. Unless it’s because it was  _ forever _ ago,” she adds, her lips twitching.

Wynonna reaches over and flicks her in the ear. “You’ll be thirty soon, you know.”

“You’ll be thirty first,” Nicole points out.

“Whatever,” Wynonna says, rolling her eyes. “You’re just jealous because I’m older than you are.”

“So jealous,” Nicole says dryly. “So jealous you’re going to get shoved into a nursing home before I do.”

Wynonna lifts her feet, resting them on the table. “Where’s the missus?”

Nicole scowls and pushes Wynonna’s feet back onto the floor. “Where’s yours?”

“Hogging half my bed,” Wynonna says, glaring into the distance. “She’s less of a human and more like a…” Her forehead wrinkles as she tries to think of something. “A sloth,” she decides.

Nicole blinks slowly. “A sloth.”

Wynonna nods. “Yeah, a sloth. She just clings. And she takes forever to do  _ anything _ .”

“She’s two,” Nicole says.

“She’s a two-year-old sloth.”

“That’s my goddaughter you’re talking about,” Nicole says. She finishes the last of the coffee in her mug and gets up, going to refill it. She scowls when she realizes that Wynonna took the last of the pot, and grabs another filter, scooping out the old grounds. She contemplates dumping them into Wynonna’s mug, but puts them in the trash instead.

_ It’s her birthday _ , Nicole reminds herself.  _ Tomorrow, you can go to her house and drink her coffee _ .

“So, what’re we doing today?” Wynonna asks. She slurps from her mug, sighing in satisfaction.

“Uh, it’s five in the morning. On a Saturday. I don’t know what we’re doing today.”

Wynonna rolls her eyes. “I know you have this big fancy watch, but you don’t constantly need to remind me what time it is.” She puts her mug down and steeples her hands on the table, her mouth pressing into a thin line.

“Oh, no,” Nicole starts, shaking her head. “No. Whatever is it, absolutely not.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Wynonna says defensively.

“You didn’t need to,” Nicole says. “I know that look on your face and the answer is  _ no. Way. _ ”

Wynonna pushes out her bottom lip. “But, it’s my birthday.”

“That doesn’t mean-”

“And you’re my best friend,” Wynonna continues over her. “Right?”

Nicole sighs. “Of course I am, but-”

“So when I tell you I know, with startling clarity, what I want for my birthday, you,  _ as my best friend _ , should want to get it for me, right?” Wynonna asks. “ _ With _ me?”

Nicole’s frown deepens, her eyes narrowing cautiously. “ _ What _ with you?”

Wynonna’s eyes sparkle as she leans forward. “ _ A tattoo _ ,” she breathes.

The coffee pot hisses behind Nicole.

Nicole shakes her head quickly. “No. Not happening.”

“Come  _ on _ ,” Wynonna whines. “It’s just a tattoo. It’s not like I’m asking you to marry me, or anything.”

“Good, because I’m not a bigamist,” Nicole grinds out, her back teeth clenched tightly together.

Wynonna’s nose wrinkles. “But you’re tall, so, doesn’t that make you one?”

“It’s someone who marries more than one person,” Nicole corrects.

Wynonna nods slowly. “Oh. Okay. Well, still. You’re my best friend and I’ve wanted a tattoo for forever and I  _ finally _ lost some of the baby weight, so now is the perfect time to get it.”

Nicole shakes her head again. “Wynonna, I’m not-”

“ _ Please _ ,” Wynonna whines, pushing out her bottom lip. “You’ll be my best friend for forever.”

Nicole rolls her eyes. “I already am.”

“Not if you don’t get a tattoo with me, you aren’t,” Wynonna fires back. “I’ll trade you in for Mercedes.”

Nicole snorts. “Good luck with that.”

Wynonna growls lightly. “Nicole Marie Haught.” She takes a deep breath. “I have wanted a tattoo since I first saw Axl from Guns N’ Roses with his-”

“ _ Victory or Death _ tattoo,” Nicole finishes. “I remember.”

Wynonna sighs dreamily. “I wanted it. I wanted it so bad, and Curtis said no.”

“Curtis said you needed wait until you were-” Nicole cuts herself off, her mouth turning down.

Wynonna grins slowly. “What did he say?”

Nicole listens to the coffee pot start to percolate and she sighs, leaning back against the counter. “Wynonna,” she starts.

“What did he say?” Wynonna pushes. “Because I remember  _ exactly _ what he said. I even had him write it down.” She fishes into her pocket, pulling out a single piece of paper and laying it flat on the table.

Nicole recognizes the handwriting instantly, the sharp and neat letters something she never really forgot. She wants to blame it on being a cop; her natural instinct is to catalogue everything she can about everyone she meets. But she knows that Curtis was always different. She remembers his handwriting because she tried so hard to make her own look the same, even down to the small swoop at the top of the zero.

“ _ You can get a tattoo when you’re 30 _ ,” Wynonna reads. “Right there, in black ink.”

“You kept this?” Nicole asks breathlessly. She runs her finger over it, a little disappointed that the paper feels starchy and old.

“I kept everything,” Wynonna admits. “Most of it wasn’t on purpose, but… I have it now. These pieces of him.” She nods at the mug in Nicole’s hand. “You do, too.”

Nicole looks down, blinking at the tomato mug she’s holding. Gus had given it to her a few years ago, pressing it into her hand with a firm, “Take it” as she cleaned out the kitchen. Most of the things went to the local consignment shop, but a few things - Curtis’s things - had been divvied up between her and Wynonna and Waverly. 

Gus had insisted she take the mug. She wouldn’t give up the matching plaid set, but the tomato she had decided she could part with. Nicole used it every day.

“Yeah,” she breathes out.

Wynonna claps her hand down on the table, startling Nicole. “So, let’s  _ do it _ .”

Nicole shakes her head again. “No. I don’t care if Curtis wrote it down on a piece of paper. It’s not-”

“It’s law,” Wynonna says over her.

“It’s  _ not _ law,” Nicole corrects. “Not driving a horse furiously on the highway is a law.”

“That’s-” Wynonna frowns. “That’s a law?”

Nicole nods seriously. “Lonnie booked Al Beauregard on it just last month.”

“Al Beauregard drives  _ everything _ furiously.” Wynonna mutters.

“Well, only horses are illegal. And only on the highway.”

Wynonna rolls her eyes and presses a hand to her forehead. “This is why I like numbers. They just make sense.”

Nicole snorts. “Sure they do.”

Wynonna opens her mouth to argue back, eyes widening. “No! Don’t distract me. I’m  _ getting _ a tattoo. And you’re doing it with me.” She pushes out her bottom lip, letting it quiver. “Please, please. Please, please, please, please.  _ Please _ , please, pl-”

“Fine!” Nicole shouts. She turns to the coffee maker, filling her mug all the way. She bends over the counter and slurps from the top of the mug, hissing when the hot coffee burns her tongue. “Fine,” she repeats. “But I’m doing research. And we’re finding a good artist. And if they can’t draw a straight line, I’m not sitting down in the chair.” She points a finger at Wynonna. “Do you understand me?”

Wynonna holds up three fingers. “Scout’s honor.”

“You were never a Scout,” Nicole mutters.

“Neither were you.” Wynonna shrugs. “Doesn’t matter, does it? But you better get dressed, Five-O. Because we’re getting this tattoo  _ today _ , not negotiable.”

Nicole is already shaking her head by the time Wynonna is done talking. “No. I need more time to really look into people.”

Wynonna groans. “But that’ll take another hundred years. We need to do it  _ today _ .”

“We don’t,” Nicole argues back.

“We do,” Wynonna insists.

Nicole looks at her watch again and sighs. “Wynonna, it’s  _ five _ in the-”

“Curtis said,” Wynonna interrupts. “Curtis said.” She pushes the note towards Nicole. “He said,  _ You can get a tattoo when you’re 30. _ ” 

“Right, but-”

“Tomorrow I’ll be 30 and one day. And the day after, I’ll be 30 and two days,” Wynonna explains, her voice slow and high. Nicole studies her face, the twist of her mouth and the way her eyes shine. “He didn’t say  _ that _ . He just said 30.”

Nicole wants to argue. Researching a properly licensed tattoo artist, getting over her fear of needles, and deciding on what tattoo to get, in a day, seems a little ridiculous. She wants a month for each of those things - maybe more for getting over her fear of pin needles puncturing her skin. Wynonna’s logic is illogical. She’ll be 30 for 365 days, and in no world did Curtis write that she could  _ only _ get a tattoo at age 30 and never any other time.

But there’s a desperation in Wynonna’s eyes that Nicole hasn’t seen since that night on the roof, when Wynonna leaned into her side and told her about Alice. They’re red in the corners, like she stayed up all night to watch the clock hit reset and she’s worried she’ll run out of time. Nicole watches Wynonna’s hands flex on the tabletop, and she sighs. 

“Fine,” she breathes. “Because Curtis said so.”

“And so it shall be,” Wynonna whispers back. She’s quiet for another minute before she stands up, pushing her chair back noisily, and dropping her coffee mug in the sink. Nicole winces at the aluminum-on-ceramic noise that echoes back. “Well, let’s go.”

“Now?” Nicole asks, looking longingly at her coffee mug. 

“Daylight’s dying,” Wynonna chirps. “Go get your wife up.”

“My wife,” Nicole sighs. She smiles softly, taking a sip of her coffee. Three years later, and it’s the best feeling in the world, the way ‘wife’ slides so effortlessly off her tongue.

“Stop making moon eyes and get a move on. We’re eating at The Patch.”

“So, like every other Saturday,” Nicole mutters.

Wynonna picks up the dish towel hanging over the stove handle, the one with a German Shepherd on it, and twists it into a long cord, flicking it at Nicole’s side. “Less sass, more moving your ass.”

Nicole jumps away from the next flick of the towel, scowling at Wynonna. “I’m taking your key back.”

Wynonna grins and snaps the towel again. “Try it, Roller. I dare you.”

“That’s Deputy Sheriff Nicole Marie Haught, to you,” Nicole fires back. She moves through the doorway to the kitchen into the living room, ducking and diving around each flick of the towel. “And I can arrest you for breaking and entering.”

“But I have a key,” Wynonna sings, straightening up for a moment.

Nicole sees her opportunity and takes it, lunging at Wynonna. She wraps her arms around Wynonna’s waist and they go back over the arm of the couch. Nicole lands on top of Wynonna, wrestling for control as Wynonna tries to hook a leg around her ankle. They roll to one side and Nicole lets go of Wynonna, reaching for the back of the couch to steady them both.

“Okay, mercy,” Nicole pants. She drops down between Wynonna and the high-back cushion.

“Shit,” Wynonna huffs, breathing heavy. “I’m too old for this.”

“30 is practically ancient,” Nicole agrees.

Wynonna pokes her hard in the ribs. “Say it again, hoser.”

“Why?” Nicole asks. “You couldn’t hear me? Turn up your hearing aid.”

Wynonna gasps, poking her again. “Take it back.”

“Won’t,” Nicole murmurs. She digs her chin into Wynonna’s shoulder. “You’re hot.”

“I knew it,” Wynonna mutters. “It’s me you’ve been after this whole time. Let’s take Alice and Styx and hit the road.”

“I can get Nathan’s friend’s recreational vehicle,” Nicole offers.

“That beast on wheels named Rhiannon?” Wynonna asks. “Hell yes. When do we leave?”

“After I nap,” Nicole says, exhaustion seeping into her body.

“After our tattoos,” Wynonna corrects.

“Tattoo,” someone snorts.

Nicole sits up, blinking at Waverly as she walks through the living room. Her hair is a mess, yesterday’s hairspray holding it in a hundred different directions. Her eyes are half-closed, and she’s moving through the house effortlessly, muscle memory kicking it and telling her when to turn. Her Ratt shirt is twisted into the front of her sweatpants, the ones that stretch past her ankles and get stuck under her feet when she walks.

_ My wife _ , Nicole thinks.

Waverly stops, taking a few steps backwards out of the kitchen. “Wynonna?”

Wynonna waves, a wide grin on her face. “Morning.”

Waverly shakes her head slowly. “I don’t want to know.”

“We’re-”

“No,” Waverly says sharply. “Not until I have my coffee.”

Wynonna shrugs. “Fine by me.” She reaches over Nicole, picking the clicker off the table, and hitting the power button. “What cartoons are on at this hour?”

 

-

“I thought you were afraid of needles?” Nathan asks as he passes her a packet of strawberry jelly.

Nicole scowls at him as she takes it, pulling the foil top off. “I thought you were afraid of looking like a square?” she fires back, eyeing his polo shirt.

Nathan looks down at the monogram on the chest -  _ Gardner Realty _ \- and shrugs. “No one says ‘square’ anymore, you know.

“I do,” Nicole mumbles.

“And Cecil Wright, Jr.,” Nathan adds.

“He smells funny,” Hayley says, poking her fork into a potato on Nicole’s plate. “Can I have this?”

“You already have it,” Nicole points out. “So, how do I say no?”

Hayley grins widely. “Mommy says I’m a un-trap-door.”

“A what?”

“An  _ entrepreneur _ ,” Mercedes corrects from the other side of the table. “And you are, honey.”

Hayley smiles wider. “See?”

Alice screeches at the other end of the table, and Nicole’s head snaps up, her eyes finding the baby immediately. She’s been patient, waiting for Alice to be passed down to her like she usually is. By the time Nicole finishes her toast, Alice will be gurgling in her lap, happily smashing her fists onto the table top. Waverly is holding her now, swaying side to side as she stands at the end of the table, talking to Doc about something. 

The bell above the door chimes, and Nathan goes rigid next to her, eyes narrowing. Nicole frowns and looks up, spotting Jonas easily. Nicole watches Nathan look at Mercedes, back to her conversation with Rosita, and frowns.

“Everything okay?” Nicole asks quietly.

Nathan nods stiffly, his lips pulled back in a sneer. “They will be when that  _ scumbag _ gets out of here.”

Mercedes looks up as Nathan spits the word  _ scumbag _ , frowning at him. She looks over her shoulder and Nicole watches tension coil in her shoulders; watches the way she turns back around to the table slowly and busies herself with trying to pay attention to Rosita again. Nicole looks between Nathan and Mercedes slowly, confused.

“Can I putta quarter in the box?” Hayley asks, leaning forward. Her elbow digs into the muscle of Nicole’s thigh and Nicole jumps at the sharp pain.

“Sure,” Nicole says absently. She fishes a quarter out of her pocket, handing it to Hayley. “Go ahead.” She nods at Nathan. “Go with her?”

Nathan hesitates, but follows Hayley across the diner, leaning against the jukebox.

Nicole leans across the table, lowering her voice. “Everything okay?”

Mercedes sighs. “I said it was fine, but Nathan blows everything out of proportion.”

“Is Jonas still giving you trouble?” Nicole asks. She’s already half out of her seat, eyes tracking him as he moves through the dining room.

Mercedes reaches across the table and grabs Nicole by the sleeve, tugging her back down. “You Haughtheads, honestly.” She glares at Nicole until Nicole sags completely against her seat. “He’s not.”

“Because if he’s still following you around everywhere,” Nicole says. “I think we should file for a restraining order.”

Mercedes rolls her eyes. “I’m not filing a restraining order.”

“He’s dangerous.”

“He’s harmless,” Mercedes argues back. “He’s slimy and he’s creepy, but he’s not going to show up in my living room with an axe.”

Nicole shakes her head. “He might not be running the Revenants anymore, but he’s still in their top ranks, and they’re trouble, Mercedes. They’re working Highway 63.” She scowls. “I’m still a little ways from proving it, but I  _ know _ it.”

Mercedes smiles. “He’s an ex-boyfriend who never really got over me. I mean, who could?” she asks, preening a little. She winks when Nicole’s cheeks turn red. “I’m hard to forget.” 

Nicole pushes her potatoes around her plate. “I’m serious, Mercedes. If he’s just  _ conveniently _ showing up wherever you are, and with what happened a few years ago? It’s a serious problem.”

“What happened was-”

“Don’t pretend like it wasn’t something,” Nicole says firmly.

She still remembers standing in the rain, shivering to the bone. The water pooled in her Chippawa boots and soaked through her jeans. The half-moon shapes of Nathan’s fingernails had cut into her arm and stayed there for a week, scabbing over and itching.

She remembers Jonas on the lawn, screaming for Mercedes to come outside and talk to him.

“Just for a minute!” he’d shouted.

They’d been in the middle of dinner when something pounded against the door. It had taken a minute to separate the later summer thunderstorm from Jonas slamming his fist against the heavy wood. He had stumbled back when the door opened, nearly slipping on the wet steps, and sank to his knees, begging Mercedes for a second chance.

Waverly took Hayley back inside, mimicking her nonsensical baby talk as she went. 

“You’re not  _ seriously _ considering going out there,” Nathan spat when Mercedes stepped onto the stoop. 

“Nathan, don’t start,” Mercedes snapped.

“He’s been driving by the house for weeks, calling and not saying anything,” Nathan said to Nicole.

Nicole frowned. “Do you know it’s him for sure?”

“Yes.”

“ _ No _ ,” Mercedes said over Nathan. “It’s a guess.”

“An  _ educated _ guess,” Nathan fired back.

Nicole winced. “If you had hard evidence that it’s him, I could do something, but-”

“Do something  _ now _ ,” Nathan demanded. He thrust an arm out across the lawn. “He’s standing on my lawn in the middle of a storm screaming my wife’s name.”

Mercedes turned, grabbing Nicole’s hand. “Just let me tell him to go home, okay?” She looked at Nathan. “Please, Nathan.”

Nathan’s eyes were hard. “He doesn’t deserve that courtesy.” He stepped forward into the rain.

Mercedes grabbed the back of his shirt, pulling. “Nathan, please. Beth dumped him. He lost his job. Give him a break.”

“Did you forget how much he terrorized you?” Nathan asked, lightning flashing in the sky behind him. “The way he treated you in high school?”

Nicole frowned. She remembered the way Jonas leered at Mercedes that day in the school parking lot. She remembered taking off her jacket and stepping in front of Mercedes, ready to stop whatever Jonas was going to throw at her - words, a fist. 

“Nathan,” Mercedes tried. “Just get out of the rain and come back inside.”

“I’ll go,” Nicole said.

Nathan shook his head, eyes on Mercedes. “He’s trespassing on private-”

“I’ll go!” Nicole repeated, louder over the pounding rain. She slipped around Mercedes and nudged Nathan back towards the stairs. “I’ll go.”

She could hear Nathan and Mercedes both shouting at her, but the rain drowned out most of their words. She ducked her head against the onslaught of drops and stopped a few meters from Jonas, frowning at him. 

“Go home, Jonas.”

“Not without talking to her,” he shouted back, pointing at Mercedes.

She wasn’t going to get close enough to smell him, but she’d bet her badge he’d been drinking.

_ You should call this in _ , she thought to herself.  _ Call it in and let him sleep it off _ .

She looked over her shoulder again, at Mercedes leaning into Nathan’s side, her face buried in his chest.

Nicole took a deep breath. “Jonas,” she tried to reason. “Jonas, go home.”

Jonas shook his head. “To  _ what _ ?”

“I don’t know, Jonas,” Nicole said. “To whoever is waiting there for you. I thought you and Bethany were together now.”

“That bi-”

“Watch it,” Nicole warned.

Jonas swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “I had the gang, and I had the girl, and now? Now I have  _ nothing _ .” Jonas wiped at his face, his hair plastered to his forehead. “Just let me talk to her.”

“She’s not coming out here,” Nicole said calmly. “You need to go home. Sleep whatever this is off.”

“Lemme by,” Jonas demanded. He lifted a hand threateningly. “Or I’ll deck ya.”

“Jonas,” Nicole warned. “Don’t do something stupid.”

Jonas swung blindly, spinning in the wet grass. Nicole ducked, her own feet sliding out from under her. She prepared her body for the impact, keeping her muscles loose so she didn’t bruise too badly, but a hand grabbed her forearm, gripping tight enough for sharp fingernails to cut into her skin. She stared up into the falling rain and gave Nathan a humorless smile.

“Come inside,” Nathan said gruffly. “He’s not worth it.”

Jonas tried to get to his feet, the grips of his boots slipping on the lawn. She watched him work his keys out of his pocket, the denim heavy and wet. He turned towards the curb

Nicole straightened up, shaking Nathan off. “No,” she said firmly. “No. Go in and call the station. Tell Linda we’ve got a 10-56 at your address, and we need someone out here. Not Lonnie!” she added.

Nathan nodded and turned, heading back into the house. Nicole took careful steps towards Jonas, watching his hands for any sudden movements, and she clapped him on the shoulder. “Let’s go sit down, Jonas. Someone will come and pick you up.”

“Someone was demanding her Auntie Nicole,” Waverly says from behind her.

Nicole straightens up and puts on a smile, reaching for Alice. She grunts as she raises her high into the air, landing Alice like a plane on her lap. Alice giggles, reaching for a lock of Nicole’s hair and tugging. Hayley jumps back into her seat, immediately making funny faces at Alice.

Nicole looks up and around the table. Nathan is standing next to Mercedes, a hand on her shoulder comfortingly. Mercedes’s head is tilted, leaning against Nathan’s hip. Waverly sits down in the seat on Nicole’s other side, pressing a kiss to Nicole’s shoulder. Rosita is on Mercedes’s other side, trading chemical tips with Jeremy. Dolls’s arm rests along the back of Jeremy’s chair as he turns the other way, talking to Perry. Chrissy is leaning forward, listening to their conversation. Doc is reaching across the table at the other end, his hand cupped around the bottom of Wynonna’s chin. She leans into his touch, her eyes closed.

It’s her favorite part of Saturday morning.

“So, a tattoo,” Nathan prompts. “Let’s get back to that.”

Waverly giggles. “She won’t  _ actually _ do it. Right, babe?”

Nicole’s mouth hardens into a thin line. “You don’t think I can?”

Waverly sighs, rolling her eyes. “Oh, no. Here we go.”

“I can  _ so _ do it.”

“I just meant,” Waverly starts.

“I might be scared of needles,  _ sure _ .” Nicole bounces Alice on her knee. “But I was also scared of heights, and I’m over that.”

“I know,” Waverly says patiently.

“I don’t think you had a choice, stretch,” Mercedes mutters.

Nicole lifts her chin. “I’m  _ not _ scared.”

Waverly smiles politely. “Okay.”

“I’m  _ not _ ,” Nicole insists.

“I’m scared of babies,” Dolls offers. “Well, besides these two,” he adds.

Hayley sticks her tongue out at Dolls.

“I’m not scared. In fact, we’re going right after this.” Nicole nods sharply, making up her mind.

Wynonna’s eyes snap open. “Yes!” She gets out of her seat and rounds the table, flicking Jeremy in the ear as she passes. She pauses at the head of the table, looking at each and every one of them. “You all heard that, didn’t you? Nicole Haught will be getting a tattoo with me. Today.  _ Right after this _ .”

“I heard it,” Jeremy says.

Nicole scowls at him.

Wynonna reaches into her jeans, pulling out a bill and slapping it into Waverly’s hand. “Thank you,” she sings.

Nicole’s eyes widen. “Did you… Are you  _ kidding _ me? You bet on me?”

“I didn’t bet on you,” Waverly insists. “Wynonna promised me money if I got you to agree, in front of everyone, that you were going to get a tattoo.” She shrugs. “I want a new agenda for the school year.”

“You have a salary,” Nicole grumbles.

Wynonna comes up behind her, wrapping her in a loose headlock. “Doesn’t matter. We’re getting a tattoo. Right after this.”

“A tattoo,” someone repeats warily. “Nicole Haught, I thought you were more intelligent than that.”

Wynonna barely loosens her hold on Nicole, letting Alice reach up and play with her fingers. “She’s really not.”

“I  _ try _ to be,” Nicole mutters.

“You’re just easy,” Waverly says kindly, running her hand over Nicole’s knee. She traces out a heart and Nicole feels her body start to melt at the touch. “Wynonna thought it might actually take you longer to give in.”

“I should have known,” Wynonna sighed. “I mean, this is the Nicole Haught who climbed the rope in gym class because Coach Tightpants didn’t make girls even try.”

Nicole feels her cheeks burn.

“What a waste of an REO shirt,” Wynonna sighs.

“I remember hearing about that,” Waverly says. She dusts her fingers over Alice’s chubby cheeks, making her giggle. “Chrissy wouldn’t stop talking about Nicole Haught showing her bra to all of gym class.” She makes a face at Chrissy. “I should have known then.” Waverly sighs.

Nicole frowns. “Known what?” 

“How jealous it made me thinking about Chrissy thinking about you in your bra,” Waverly breathes.

Chrissy rolls up her straw wrapper and tosses it in Waverly’s direction, frowning when it stops in front of Hayley instead. 

Gus clears her throat. “If you girls don’t mind, you’re taking up the whole walkthrough.”

“We don’t mind,” Wynonna says casually.

Gus swats at Wynonna’s side. “Move it, girl.”

Wynonna snaps to attention, saluting Gus. “Aye, aye.” She rounds the table, sitting on Doc’s lap instead of her seat, and leans forward so she can see over Perry and Hayley. “So, where are we going? For a small town, we have a few tattoo places. And there’s a few just outside of town that won’t take long to get to.”

“I drove by one the other day,” Dolls volunteers.

“Which one?”

Dolls purses his lips, thinking. “It had a pig in the window.”

Nicole frowns, racking her brain for what tattoo place in Purgatory would have a pig sign in the window. “Like, neon, or a poster.”

Dolls smiles slowly. “No, a pig.”

“I know,” Nicole says. She spears a potato and pops it in her mouth. “But is it, like a neon pig sign or a poster of a pig?”

“A pig,” Dolls repeats. “A  _ real _ pig.”

Nicole’s mouth drops open slowly. “No.”

“Yes,” Dolls says.

“Not a real pig.”

“A real pig.”

“Ig!” Alice shouts. “Ig!”

Wynonna grins. “That’s rude to talk about your Uncle Dolls like that, John Henry, Jr.”

Waverly rolls her eyes. “Stop calling her that.”

“Ig!” Alice shouts again.

Wynonna shrugs. “She doesn’t seem to mind.”

“We’re  _ not _ going there,” Nicole says firmly. She shudders. “No way in hell.”

Nathan narrows his eyes. “What about Lou’s Tattoos, just past the line?”

“Closed,” Nicole says. “Owner wasn’t paying property taxes, and he fled when an arrest warrant was issued.” She sighs. “It’s too bad. I liked their neon lights.” She smiles, thinking about the large light fixture in their window, with orange and green and blue neon tubes. 

“It’s too bad we can’t get to Thunder Bay and back in a day,” Wynonna says wistfully. “There’s a super cool chick out there who does Valdez’s stuff.”

“Someone talking about me?”

Wynonna turns so quickly that she almost falls off of Doc’s lap, a hand pressed to her chest. “Wear a bell,” she hisses. 

Valdez lifts one eyebrow, a solitary arch on her forehead. Leslie smiles brightly next to her and lifts a hand, waving. “Hey, everyone.”

“What about me?” Valdez asks.

“Tattoos,” Wynonna manages, still trying to catch her breath. “You have ‘em. I was telling them about the girl in Thunder Bay who tattooed you and then…” She trails off, eyeing Leslie. “Well. She tattooed you.”

Leslie shrugs a shoulder, lacing her fingers in Valdez’s. “Not everyone meets their soulmate at age eight.”

“I was seven when I met Nicole,” Wynonna offers. “But I get the point.” She looks back at Valdez. “So, who would you go to around here?”

Valdez rolls her eyes, but takes a deep breath. “Check out Needle Point, by the new mini-mall strip they put in near the park. They’ve got a good crew, solid lines.” She lifts her arm, her snake tattoo peeking out from under her shirt sleeve and winding down her arm to her wrist. “They touched this up for me. Added some new green to it.”

Wynonna sighs dreamily. “You’re such a badass.”

“Don’t you ever get… jealous?” Perry asks Doc, his loud whisper carrying around the table.

Doc grins crookedly. “I am very lucky to have Wynonna’s affections. Whatever amount of that affection she imparts on me is a blessing.” He pauses, looking up at Wynonna. “Did I say that right, dear?”

“Perfect,” Wynonna says, pinching his cheek. “I’ll let you eat dinner tonight,” she teases.

“A blessed day it is.”

Nicole worries her bottom lip between her teeth. She catches Valdez’s eye and smiles nervously. “What if Nedley says I’m, like, breaking a rule, or something.” Nicole asks, the fear of that possibility being a reality sinking into her gut.

“Valdez has them,” Wynonna says slowly.

“Sure,” Valdez says. “I have them.”

“Right, well, you’re-” Nicole stops herself.

Valdez narrows her eyes. “I’m what?”

“You’re…  _ you _ ,” Nicole says slowly.  _ And even Nedley is scared of you a little bit. _

Valdez smiles widely, the look unfamiliar on her face. Leslie squeezes her hand. “I think Pine has one or two, too. So as long as you keep it professional, you’ll be fine.”

“So no tattoo of my face on her arm, then, is what you’re saying,” Wynonna says. “Dammit. I’ll have to settle for your as-”

“Ask me no questions, I’ll tell you no lies,” Nicole says quickly, cupping her hands over Alice’s ears. “ _ Wynonna _ .”

Wynonna shrugs. “I’d rather her swear than, like, listen to Madonna all the time.”

Nicole pause. “God, you’re right.”

“Hey,” Mercedes, Rosita, Chrissy, and Waverly all protest. 

“Okay, let’s get this back on track,” Waverly says loudly. She stands up, holding her coffee mug up in front of her. “We are here, on this Saturday-”

“Like every other Saturday,” Jeremy chimes in.

“To celebrate,” Waverly says tightly, glaring at Jeremy for a moment. “To celebrate Wynonna’s birthday. We weren’t sure you’d make it to 13, let alone 30. But here you are, 30 and flirty and thriving.”

Wynonna wrinkles her nose. “That’s disgusting.”

Waverly grins, lifting her mug a little higher. “To another 30 years of your charming personality, your terrible jokes, and your unwavering friendship.”

“After 30 more years, you have permission to take me out back and shoot me,” Wynonna says, toasting her glass.

“To Wynonna,” Waverly says.

“To Wynonna,” they echo.

“To birthday tattoos,” Wynonna says, throwing her head back and draining the rest of her coffee mug. 

 

-

Nicole flinches as the machine starts.

Fletch Callahan looks up at the movement, grinning. “You scared, Officer Haught?”

“Nicole,” she corrects. “And no. Of course I’m not.”

Fletch nods slowly, like he doesn’t believe her. He starts his machine again, holding the orange in his hand steady as he presses the tattoo needle to the skin of the fruit. Nicole watches him carefully - he sticks his tongue out as he works, the blue bandana tied around his head keeping his hair out of his eyes. He pulls the needle away from the orange and sits back, staring at his work. He finally frowns at it and sighs.

“Damn straight lines,” he mutters. He looks up and ducks his head. “Sorry, Off- Nicole.”

“Sorry for what?” Nicole asks.

“Language,” Fletch says. He shrugs. “My momma always told me I was supposed to keep it clean around ladies. Even if those ladies carry a gun.”

“Your momma sounds like a smart woman,” Nicole says kindly. 

Fletch smiles broadly. “She was, thanks.”

“She passed?”

Fletch nods. “Few years, now. Right before I got in with the Blue Devils, actually.”

Nicole leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “Oh, yeah?”

Fletch tosses the orange up into the air. “We lived out near the salt flats. When my momma passed, I moved into town, with my aunt.” He goes quiet for a moment, shrugging a shoulder at something. “I was angry a lot. My momma was all I had. Dad left town years before, you know?”

Nicole thinks about her own dad, watching him leave town twice. Something in her stomach twists hard and she nods silently.

Fletch gives her a thin smile. “Got into a lot of trouble. I was hanging out a lot with Moses, and he kept telling me I need to talk to Doc Holliday. So I finally do something  _ real _ stupid, and Sheriff Nedley picks me up and drops me off at the garage and introduces me to Doc.”

Nicole’s mouth falls open slowly, her forehead knitted in confusion. “Sheriff Nedley…”

Fletch’s smile stretches into something genuine. “He drove me back to my aunt’s house afterwards, and I had a brand new blue bandana. Just like that.”

“Just like that,” Nicole repeats. 

She sits back a little, stunned. She knew that Doc and the Sheriff were going to try and work together to target young men in the town who might be headed down the wrong path. The Revenants liked the ones with the criminal records, but Doc used to cherry pick his recruits - boys with potential, he called them. She knew Doc and the Sheriff had a couple of closed door meetings over the last few years, before Nicole was promoted, but she figured they were just to keep the Blue Devils on the right side of the law. 

She knows Doc is looking to pass the mantle soon - he’s going on 32 and raising a little girl and the Blue Devils aren’t what they used to be, a bunch of teenage boys drinking liquor and drag racing at the Triangle. Now they run a booth at the local Little League games, and they’re in charge of the Clean the Parks initiative. Nedley has been pushing her to get more involved with them; he called them the saving grace of the town the last time they shared a whisky in his office after their shift. 

“Best thing that ever happened to me,” Fletch says quietly. “The Devils were my second chance.” He tosses the orange into the air and blushes when he misses it on the way down. 

Nicole clears her throat, giving him a moment to pick the orange up and put it down on the small counter he’s sitting at. “And now you’re training to become a tattoo artist.”

Fletch grins widely. “Tug is training me,” he rushes. “He’s, like, almost as cool as Doc. He has a hundred tattoos, I swear, and he did almost all of them himself. I mean, the ones on his back he didn’t do, but you know what I mean.” 

“That’s… pretty cool,” Nicole offers.

“You want to see the one he did for me?” Fletch asks, rolling up the sleeve of his shirt. He pauses, waiting for her nod before he lifts it the rest of the way. There’s a large swatch of blue, wrapped over the muscle of his bicep, with the Devils logo in the middle. 

“Wow,” Nicole says. Even if she doesn’t like the idea, she can’t deny the technique is good. She’s been thinking about some of her favorite bands all day - Poison and Mötley Crue and Twisted Sister - and going over their tattoos in her head. The lines on Fletch’s arm are straight and sure and the logo in the middle pops from the blue background.

“Nicole!”

Nicole straightens up as Wynonna bursts out of the back room, hurrying towards her. Tug McCall, the shop owner, leans in the doorway and waves a hand in her direction. 

Wynonna steps into her view, thrusting her arm into Nicole’s face. “Dude,” she breathes. “ _ Look _ .”

Her arm is so close that it takes Nicole a minute to focus. It’s a Colt Buntline Special, a six-chamber with  _ Peacemaker _ etched into the side of it. The detail is clear and crisp, and Nicole feels her mouth drop open as she studies it. There’s script wrapped around the handle, and it takes Nicole a minute to read it.

“I was born, six-gun in my hand,” she reads out loud. She looks up. “Really?”

“Hey, Bad Company is  _ my _ band.” Wynonna puffs out her chest. “Do you remember me telling you about that gun my daddy gambled away? The really expensive one?” She nods at her forearm. “This is it.”

Nicole snorts. “This is… It’s so you.”

“Isn’t it?” Wynonna asks, beaming. She claps Nicole on the shoulder. “You’re up, Five-O. What’re you getting?”

Nicole stands up and takes off her watch, slowly sliding it into her pocket. “I was thinking some lyrics,” she says, looking at Tug.

Tug grins. “Should be easy. What’re you thinking? Some more Bad Company?”

Nicole shakes her head. “Cyndi Lauper.”

Wynonna groans. “Cyndi freakin’ Lauper?”

“‘Time After Time’,” Nicole continues.

Wynonna flops down onto the couch Nicole was just sitting on. Fletch laughs from his seat. “ _ Not _ that song.”

“Waverly loves that song,” Nicole defends. “And I love her. So… deal.” 

Wynonna rolls her eyes. “You guys are so disgusting.”

Tug is nodding. “That should be easy enough. Where?”

Nicole stretches out her arm. “Under my watch band?”

Tug squints, tapping his chin with one finger. “Might be too small of a space.”

Nicole frowns.

“If you want to do it somewhere else,” Tug starts.

Nicole shakes her head. “No. What about, like, half of those lyrics?”

Tug studies her wrist again. “Yeah. Yeah, I can make that work.”

Wynonna grins and claps a hand down on Nicole’s shoulder, squeezing tightly. “Go get ‘em, Roller.”

Nicole takes a deep breath and follows Tug through to the back room. She wishes she had brought Waverly with her, to sit in the room while she got the tattoo. She wishes she hadn’t agreed to this stupid idea.

Tug turns on the machine and Nicole feels her stomach turn at the sight of the needle head pulsing. “Ready?”

_ No _ , Nicole thinks.

“Sure,” she says.

Tug grins and leans forward over her wrist, stretched out on a padded stool. 

The first press of the needle  _ hurts _ . It feels like it’s cutting through her skin. It burns, and she clenches her teeth together to stop from crying out. After a minute, it goes numb. Tug has the radio on low, and she can’t make out the sound, but the humming from the tattoo machine is calming and she focuses on that.

“Done,” Tug says, the machine cutting off.

Nicole frowns. “What?”

“All set,” Tug repeats, peeling his gloves off. 

“That’s it?” she asks.

Tug smiles at her. “It was pretty simple script.” He nods at her wrist. “Take a look.”

Nicole looks down, the black ink stark against her red skin. “You will find me, time after time,” she reads. She smiles slowly. “I love it.”

Tug starts cleaning his station. “Good. Hey, will you do me a favor and let Valdez know I’m ready for her whenever she wants to come in?”

Nicole smiles. “Will do.”

“Show me, show me, show me,” Wynonna is chanting as Nicole steps back into the front room. Nicole shakes her head, stretching her arm out for Wynonna to read. “Well, I guess it doesn’t totally suck,” she admits. 

Nicole smacks her shoulder. “I love it,” she admits.

Wynonna grins. “Knew it.”

“Shut up.”

“I’m a genius.”

“Shut. Up.”

Wynonna grins. “So, are you going to get a second one with me?”

Nicole shakes her head quickly. “God, no. I’d rather be…” She laughs, her skin pulsing. “God, I’d rather be shot than ever do  _ that _ again.”

Fletch laughs, shaking his head.

Wynonna slings her arm around Nicole’s neck, pulling her in. “You’ve got a friend in me,” she sings.

“No, please, don’t,” Nicole begs.

“You’ve got a friend in meeee.”

Nicole closes her eyes tightly, praying for this to be over. She waves at Fletch and leads Wynonna outside, towards the car. 

“When the road looks rough ahead,” Wynonna continues.

“I’d rather get another tattoo than listen to you sing this song,” Nicole grumbles.

Wynonna stops, grinning. “So, if you were going to rank it… You’d rather be shot than get another tattoo, and you’d rather get another tattoo than listen to me sing Randy Newman. So what you’re saying is, Randy Newman is worse than death.”

“Not every gunshot results in death,” Nicole points out.

“Most do,” Wynonna says. Her eyes darken. “So don’t go out there and be a stupid hero, okay?”

Nicole grins. “Stupid? Me?”

Wynonna shrugs. “It’s been known to happen. I mean, you shacked up with my sister, didn’t you?”

Nicole pokes Wynonna in the ribs. “Rude.

Wynonna pauses, her hand on the top of Nicole’s Bonneville. “Thanks for coming,” she says softly, looking away. Her cheeks are flushed, and she squints against the sun.

Nicole nods. “Of course.” She wants to say more, but Wynonna is turned away from her, and she knows anything she says will be brushed off or Wynonna will laugh and roll her eyes. So she looks at her car instead, running her hand over the hood and pressing her palm flat against it.  _ Don’t die, don’t die _ , she pleads with her car. Doc is scheduled to give it its annual once-over next week, and she’s nervous about the results. 

“Happy Birthday, you old lady,” Nicole finally says.

Wynonna looks up at that, rolling her eyes. “You’re next.”

“And my birthday’ll be a hell of lot better than this,” Nicole promises. “Just you wait.”


End file.
